The Kissing Game
by Rointheta
Summary: The Doctor and Rose visit a blanket bazaar, and she tries on a lipstick that turns invisible when applied — until you look at someone you want to kiss. Neither wants to admit that they want to kiss the other, and it turns into a game of who'll give in first.
1. Let the Games Begin

written from the prompt: ten/rose + meadow + weather + lipstick  
Thanks to resile, who read through it to make sure I didn't have a bunch of typos.

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**1. LET THE GAMES BEGIN**

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"Ooooh," the Doctor says, putting on his coat as he steps out of the TARDIS. "Brilliant!"

Nose scrunched up, Rose squints at at the vast, golden meadow before them. "What?"

"Look at that sky, Rose." He spreads out his arms, hands raised. "Not a cloud as far as the eye can see."

"Okay… Was sunny on the last planet we visited, though, and you didn't act like this."

"Well, there's a reason for that." He leans forward, closer to her, and beams. "It rains nine days out of ten on this planet, so on days like this one, this whole place comes alive! Oooh," he says, spinning around. "This is brilliant. D'you know why?"

She laughs. "No. Why?"

"The people here are just like humans in a way. As soon as it's sunny, you lot spread out in fields and parks with your blankets, bikinis, books, and baskets full of food to barbeque," he says, over-enunciating the last word before flashing her a grin. "Only here, they don't stop there. No, Rose Tyler, on this very meadow, they hold a blanket bazaar!"

"Okay…" she says, peering at him. "Didn't know you were such a fan of blankets."

"No, no." He grabs her hand and starts walking. "They don't sell blankets — or, well, some do — they sell things on blankets. You don't need a permit. You just grab a blanket, what you wanna sell, and mosey down to the meadow and open up shop!"

"Ah," she says with a nod and a smile. "And are we buying or selling today? Could spread out your coat and empty those pockets of yours. Reckon we'd get rich."

"Oh, we would! But that would be very irresponsible of me. Can't very well go about selling things from all over time and space all willy-nilly. I take my role as time traveller very seriously!"

Rose snorts.

"What?" he says through a laugh. "I do! Besides, there are a few things I need for the TARDIS that are hard to come by usually, but always pop up in places like this one. So we're only here to buy. Gotta snatch up those bits and bobs before someone else does."

"Okay, but, uhm…" She looks out over the empty field of grass and wildflowers. "Where is it?"

"We landed on a hill, but over there by the 'port stone," he says, pointing at an oblong, yellow rock the size of a small child, "there's a slope. You just touch the stone and wham! You're down in the valley." He grins, waggling his eyebrows. "C'mon!"

They run the last bit to the rock, and Rose inches closer to the crest to peek down at the valley below, breathing out in awe when she sees the myriad of people surrounding countless of colourful blankets.

"Must be thousands of people down there."

"Sounds about right."He nudges her closer to the rock. "Now, put your hand on the 'port stone, on that spot right here," he says, pointing at a large, red dot painted at the top. "It's nothing like a transmat. You won't feel that disoriented. It's quick, pain-free, safe, and just… You know. A nice short range teleport. Just go and I'll be right behind you."

"All right!"

She presses her palm against the rock, sucking in a sharp breath at the surging sensation in the pit of her stomach. Everything turns black and, five seconds later, she materialises in the valley. She stumbles several steps forward, blinking at the light stinging her eyes. She hears rustling of clothes, of feet moving over grass behind her, and feels the Doctor's arm on her shoulder.

"Okay?" he asks, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah. I'm fine. That was amazing! Like the universe's shortest roller coaster."

"Actually," he says, taking her hand and strolling to the first row of blankets full of merchandise, "the world's shortest roller coaster is located on Funtivia Forty-four."

"Let me guess. Amusement park planet?"

"Right-o! I should take you there. Have a day off. How's that sound?"

"Yeah, sure. Five quid we run into trouble, though."

"With this jeopardy friendly human by my side? Oh, I'm certain of it!" His face splits into a wide grin and he bumps her shoulder with his. "Now, let's see…" Humming, he scans their surroundings until he nods and starts moving through the crowd with Rose in tow. "I think I know where to start…"

"Yeah, about that…" She tries to get a good look around by hopping and peeking over people's shoulders. "This isn't very organised, is it?"

"Nope!" He cranes his neck, surveying the goods laid out on a blanket to their right. "Not even a little bit."

"Then how d'you know where to look?"

"I don't!" He smiles. "More fun that way!"

"Yeah… You can't, dunno, smell your way there, then?" She taps the tip of his nose. "With all those superior senses, you gotta be able to smell metal, yeah?"

"Sure, but there are so many goods here made out of…wait a minute." His face lights up, eyes widening with delight. "They're blackened with a rather pungent metal oil. Oh, Rose Tyler. You are brilliant, you are." He sniffs a couple of times, then draws in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as he exhales. "Ah. This way!"

Fifteen minutes later the Doctor has located the right blanket with the help of his superior nose, and he crouches down on the ground, poking around among the bits and bobs scattered over a polka dot blanket. Rose turns to the neighbouring blanket, smiling at the man sitting in one corner with his legs criss-cross.

"Hello! I'm Rose. How are you?"

"Hello! I'm Giff, and I'm just dandy-dandy. What can I do for you this Sunday?"

"Sunday. You mean…" Her eyes flicker up to the sky before returning to Giff. "'Cause of the weather?"

He chuckles. "Ah. A little space cadet, huh? Yes, yes, because of the weather. So, tell me, Rose…" He grins and gestures at the many boxes and tubes he's selling. "Are you interested in some homemade, organic makeup?"

"Homemade and organic?"

"Yep! I grow everything myself in my garden and make it in my kitchen." He clears his throat and pats the chest pocket of his long tunic. "I have a permit."

"Well, then," she says, smiling, and sits down on the ground. "Show me what you got."

Giff shows her blush, foundation, eyeshadow, and mascara before moving on to lipsticks and chapsticks, and soon Rose has a nice pile in front of her of products for herself and her mum.

"D'you take credit sticks?"

"Yep! Prefer it, even." He holds up a device similar to a mobile phone only smaller. "Got a scanner and everything."

"Great!"

She's just about to turn to the Doctor and ask him for the credit stick when a basket full of lipstick tubes catches her attention. In front of it, a handwritten note reading 'Kiss Me Lipstick' stands next to a sample showing off the lipstick's gorgeous deep red colour.

Rose points at it. "You didn't show me that. Is it not for sale?"

"Oh, it is! Be my guest. Try it on," he says, sliding a mirror out of a rucksack resting against his thigh. "It's fresh! No one's tried it on yet."

"Thanks." She paints her bottom lip, frowning at the mirror when she looks just the same. "What—" She inspects the sample with knitted brow, then tries again, but her mouth still looks unpainted. "What the…" she says, sliding her lips together and feeling the smooth texture of the lipstick. "Is this invisible?"

"Yep!"

She laughs. "Why? What's the point?"

"Oh, you see, it's 'Kiss Me Lipstick'. The colour will appear when you look at someone you really want to kiss, and if they feel the same, they will be so entranced by your lips that they won't be able to resist."

Her jaw drops, heart speeding up its beating, palms going damp with sweat. "What? Why would anyone want that?" She glances at the Doctor, who's handing over his credit stick to the seller. "D'you have makeup remover? I have to get this off me! Properly. No traces of it. Not even the smallest smudge, 'cause he'll notice."

"Sure do!" Giff shoves his hand into his rucksack, rummaging around. "It's actually my most popular product, but I usually don't show it to offworlders." He snorts out a chortle. "You never quite know how they'll react."

"Hello, Rose," the Doctor says, sitting down beside her. She freezes, keeping her head ducked and facing the other direction. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you… Rose? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing special. Just…" Her eyes drift over the people around them, landing on a man with the longest beard she's ever seen. "That bloke. Look at that beard. Isn't it impressive?"

"Eer, yeah. Didn't know you like beards."

"Love 'em!" Through the corner of her eye, she sees Giff waving a tissue at her, and she snatches it from his hand with a grateful smile on her lips. The tissue smells like lavender and feels oily, and she scrubs her lips with it, finishing up with careful wipes around her mouth, then rubbing her sleeve over her lips for good measure. "Hello, Doctor!" she says, turning to him and cringing at her too-loud voice.

"You're acting weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Nope. Let's go, then! Allons-y and that."

"Have you paid yet?"

"Uhm… Right. No. No, you have the credit stick."

The Doctor's eyes move from her lips, to the scrunched up tissue in her hand, then the goods, and, lastly, the basket full of 'Kiss Me Lipstick'. He looks back at her and grins from ear to ear, head tilting from side to side.

"Why, Rose. Is there something you wanna tell me?"

"Nope. Not a thing." She smiles at Giff and stands up, clutching her bag of makeup close to her chest. "Thanks, Giff. The Doctor will pay. Have a lovely Sunday," she calls over her shoulder, darting off in the direction of the 'port stone.

Right as she reaches the edge of the blanket bazaar, the Doctor catches up with her and slides his hand around her elbow, linking their arms.

"Well, well, well. Fancy running into you here. Come here often?"

"Shut up."

"Rooose?" He flutters his eyelashes at her. "Why didn't you want me to see your face when you wore that lipstick?"

"I wasn't!"

"No?"

"No! I was wearing a really ugly shade that made me look all washed out."

"It's all right," he say in a cheerful tone, preening and adjusting his tie, "I am rather pretty this time around. Of course you wanna kiss me. Who wouldn't?"

"I don't!"

"Sure, sure," he says with the smuggest of grins.

"I don't. You're-you're an alien." She scrunches up her face in disgust. "I'd never kiss you. Eugh!"

He tuts at her. "The lady doth protest too much, hm?"

"You know what, Doctor?" She reaches into the bag, finds a chapstick, and unscrews the lid with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out. "I got a sample from Giff."

"You did?"

"Mhm. So, let's see…"

Fast as lightning, she swipes the chapstick over the Doctor's lips, then steps back, keeping her expression as innocent as she can. His eyes widen, a flush creeping up his cheeks, and his mouth works without any sound coming out.

"Would you look at that! Your face is almost as red as your lips."

"It doesn't work like that on Time Lords! It's never invisible. I-I-I want to kiss everyone! You know me, always up for a friendly snog."

"Yeah?" she says, laughing.

"Yep! I'll snog anyone. This doesn't mean anything," he says, gesturing at his mouth with his index finger. "I don't wa— Hold on." He frowns. "This was 'Kiss Me Lipstick'. If you feel the same, I'm supposed to be irresistible to you. Why are you not kissing me?"

She shrugs, holding up her hand in front of her, inspecting her nails. "'Cause I don't wanna. Told you, didn't I?"

"But-but-but— You do, too. I know you do."

"Nope," she says, shaking her head. "Wanna go back to the TARDIS, then? I could murder a cuppa."

His face falls, eyebrows drawn together. "You don't want to kiss me? I thought— Wait. Wait-wait-wait." He licks his lips and smacks his tongue. "This tastes like chapstick. Is this chapstick?"

Rose swivels on the spot, unable to suppress a smile. "Maybe…"

"You tricked me!"

"I'm very clever."

He draws in a breath. "Why you little— Well, if that's the way you wanna play it," he says, walking to the 'port stone with his head held high.

"Doctor? Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

He presses his hand against the spot and vanishes, and she runs after him, using the 'port stone herself. The world disappears and reappears, and she stumbles forwards, right into the arms of the Doctor.

"Hello," he says, splaying his hands over the small of her back and holding her close.

"Oh." She smiles, looking up at him through her lashes, resting her hands over his hearts. "Hello."

"You know, Rose. I don't need a lipstick to tell me exactly what you want. Or should I say 'who you want'?" He breathes in through his nose. "Mm. Not quite there yet. Strange… A tight hug usually does it. Hm, I bet that if I just…"

He slides his hand down her back, farther and farther, until he's cupping her bum, pressing her close to his body, grinding their hips together, and she can't help the blood rushing to her centre.

"Ah, there we go," he says, smug grin returning to his face.

Curling her lip in dislike, she slips out of his embrace. "No, we really don't. Just a physical reaction, that's all. Hm…" She bites her lip, pretending to think. "Think I want some blueberry scones with that tea," she says, turning around and walking towards the timeship. She looks over her shoulder, finding him gaping at her. "You coming or what?"

"Eeer…" He runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his neck, and nods. "Yep."

Facing the timeship again, Rose breaks out in a sly smile. Let the games begin.

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_tbc_


	2. Two Can Play That Game

written from the prompt: ten/rose + palace + dawn + thimble  
beta: resile

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**2. TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME**

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Rose looks up from her plate when the Doctor _saunters_ inside, ruffling his already mussed-up hair. He beams at her, crinkles drawing from the corners of his eyes down to his oil-and-dust streaked cheekbones.

"Anything left for me?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she gestures at the platter of warm blueberry scones and the floral-patterned tea pot he favours.

"Brilliant." He pushes his already rolled up sleeves even farther, and grabs a chair, sitting down with his feet propped up on the table. "I've just been tinkering." He sniffs and tilts his head to the side, leaning on the two backmost legs. "You know, repairing the TARDIS. Replacing the faulty parts. With my manly, hairy hands," he says, wiggling the fingers of said hands.

"Yeah, I noticed. You always look like you've rolled around in a pigpen after you've tinkered. Usually do something about it before you come to the table, though, don't you?"

Rose returns her attention to her tea, hiding her smile behind her mug when his mouth falls open in indignation. He clears his throat and tilts his chin up, pushing his chest so far out she half-expects a button to pop and the chair to tip over.

"The fit blokes in school used to sit like that. The really cool ones," she says with a happy sigh, eyes on the scone she's buttering, but she still notices the smug expression spreading on his face. "Oh, I used to fancy them. Write their names in my diary. Day dream and all that. Then I grew up and realised I was into mature men with manners." She takes a bite of her scone and looks up at him. "You know?"

"_Fascinating_." He sits up and pours himself tea into a delicate cup that matches the pot. "Suppose I should change, then." He raises his little finger in the air as he takes a sip. "Mm. Not too bad."

"That's not proper," she says with a smirk, waving her pinky at him.

"Isn't it?" He stretches his higher, takes three big gulps, breathes out a content 'ah', and puts down his empty cup. "So, Rose Tyler," he rises and claps his hands together, "ready for an adventure? I'd like to try out the Randomiser now that I've upgraded the incido-aligner."

"Weren't you gonna change first?"

"Of course." He flashes her a toothy grin and snaps his fingers, at which a crisp, light-blue shirt materialises over the backrest of the chair. "Magic!" He waggles his eyebrows at her.

"Mhm. I know that was really the TARDIS."

"Just gonna wash," he says, loosening his tie.

He removes it and unbuttons the shirt he's wearing on his way to the sink, shrugging off the garment before turning on the tap. Now dressed in only his trousers and a white t-shirt, he squirts soap onto his palms, works up a lather and bends over, bum angled in her direction for a perfect ogling opportunity, to wash off the dirt and grime from his face and hands. She allows herself five seconds of admiring his backside, then empties her mug, grabs the rest of her scone and shoves it into her mouth.

"Meet you in the console room," she says around the bite, managing to hold back a snigger at his surprised 'What?' until she's sitting on the jump seat.

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**.**

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They landed on Chrysanthemum, a small island ravaged by a tribe of volcano trolls stuck there after their home on the mainland rocketed them through the air in its latest eruption. Usually, the trolls would scamper home, but this particular breed didn't know how to swim, how to speak Chrysanthemumish, or how to use a boat. They did know, however, how to smash their big, angry fists at people, buildings, trees, goats, and other things that got in their way.

After using their diplomatic skills, the Doctor and Rose held a swimming lesson all afternoon, waved the volcano trolls goodbye, and found themselves ushered to court. The royal family invited them to stay for the celebratory dinner and made it clear that they would consider it the highest of insults — and worthy of beheading — if the Doctor and Rose were to decline. It also stood clear that even the most liberal of Chrysanthemumians would, upon meeting a man and a woman travelling together _unwed_, turn the offending couple in to the authorities, who _also_held beheading in high regard.

So now, a couple of hours after dinner, Rose paces her and her _husband's_ room, muttering to herself in between hearty gulps of the chilled white in her golden goblet.

"Bloody sexist planet!" She plops down on the velvet-covered ottoman in front of the vanity to detangle her complicated updo. "'No, Rose. You're not invited. You have the wrong bits. You'll have to stay in our room until the mighty men have drunk their stupid mulled wine and smoked their cigars.' Like I even wanna smoke a cigar." She grabs a couple of round cotton pads from a dispenser on the table and takes a sniff. Lavender. Just like the tissues Giff had given her on that blanket bazaar. She shrugs and wipes one pad over her cheek, leaving her skin clean and shiny with just one swipe. "Always something," she says and finishes removing her makeup.

The Doctor kept up his little game all day, taking any opportunity he got to put on his specs or tug at his hair or show off his bum in those stupid, tight trousers of his. He even stripped down to a t-shirt and dark boxers during the swimming lesson. Rose, on the other hand, chose white cotton underwear this morning, and cursing at the fact, sat in jeans and a vest top under the blazing sun as she taught the younglings how to do proper strokes and paddle one's feet.

She rises with a sigh and takes the silver-handled brush, combing her hair on her way over to the elegant armoire on the other side of the room, in which Rose, according to the handmaiden — or whatever she was — would find nightgowns. The door glides open from just a soft tug from Rose and she inspects the only nightgown with a crinkle of her nose. It consists of layers upon layers of gossamer fabric that fall freely from the waist down to the floor and will, without doubt, ensnare her after ten seconds of sleep.

"No, thank you," she mouths, sticking her hand behind the garment and breathes out in relief upon finding a men's silk pyjama set. She shrugs. The Doctor can sleep in his t-shirt and boxers. "Although…" She taps her chin. "Hm..."

Images pop up in her mind of him preening on that beach, of him taunting her in the galley with his tinkering-induced dishevelled state, as though he knew her weakness for it. Well, considering all his superior senses, smelling her arousal couldn't be his only creepy talent. He could probably hear her heartbeats quickening and her breaths shallowing whenever she found him particularly attractive.

"Well, Doctor." She grins. She doesn't need superior senses, only her own two eyes and she's noticed his wandering every so often. "Two can play that game."

He hung his coat on a hook on the wall behind a lace screen before they left for dinner, and she digs around in his pockets for a minute until she pulls out a small sewing kit with a happy whoop. She couldn't sew to save her life before she started at Henrik's, but one of her co-workers always fitted her clothes to make them look tailor-made, and she taught Rose a few tricks during their breaks.

With her tongue peeking out through the corner of her mouth in concentration, she cuts off big chunks of fabric, slips on the thimble, threads the needle, and gets to work.

* * *

**.**

* * *

When he comes back, she lies on the bed, over the covers, with a book in her hand, clad in her new-and-improved nightgown that barely covers anything at all. Smiling at him, she gives a coquettish wave, then flips a page and keeps reading the book. A good two minutes pass without him moving.

"Are you gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna scoop your chin off the floor and join me?"

"What-what—" He shakes his head. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing?" She closes the book and tosses it on the nightstand, shifting over on her side and pulling her knee up a touch to show off the curve of her hip. "Just a nightgown I found in the armoire. There are silk pyjamas there for you."

"You call that a _nightgown_. That-that-that's a handkerchief, that is. A scrap of fabric. A stamp would cover up more than that thing."

"Oh." She glances down her body and lets an innocent smile grace her face. "Does it bother you, Doctor?"

"Me? No. Nope. Nein. Niet. Nej. Nah." He fills his chest with air, eyebrows rising high on his forehead, and tugs at his ear. "I was just," he releases his ear, waving his hand about, "stopping by. Er, to say goodnight. I'm not tired, so I thought I'd explore the royal library."

"Mhm." She nods, licking her lips. "And it's not 'cause you don't trust yourself when I'm dressed like this, then?"

"Why wouldn't I trust myself?"

"You tell me," she says, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up. The nightgown hits the top of her thighs _and_ shows off plenty of bosom inside a round, ruffled neckline. "This covers all the 'dangerous' bits, after all, and you always say my lot's a bunch of randy apes whilst you high and mighty _Time Lords_ are—"

"Now, I've not called you 'apes' in quite some time, Rose. I happen to be quite fond of humans. Brilliant species, really. Among the very few that actually invented the wheel _before_ the—"

"You can change the subject all you like," she says, gliding up to him. "I'm gonna pop into the en suite and brush my teeth and go to bed. And, since you're too scared of me and my scrap of fabric," she tugs at his tie, "I suppose this is 'goodnight', then, yeah?" She turns around and moves towards the en suite, swaying her hips, and looks over her shoulder as she pulls the door open. Catching his eyes on her bum, she smirks. "Right. See you tomorrow, Doctor."

When she comes back out, he's lying in bed dressed in the silk pyjamas, hands above the covers. He gives her a friendly smile when she climbs in to join him, then turns off the lights and rolls over on his side, back to her. She clears her throat.

"Yes?"

"I've been alone up here for hours. D'you know how boring it's been? What kind of horrible planet has a 'no women allowed outside their bedrooms after sundown' rule, anyway?"

"Oh, you know. Every place is different. And," he says, turning back around and grinning at her, "at least the sun goes down pretty late here."

"Yeah." She blinks. "That makes it all right."

He quirks his lips into a crooked smile. "Okay. We can talk for a bit. So, tell me, Rose. What do you wanna talk about?"

"Dunno. Anything?" She looks up at him through her lashes. "What do _you_ wanna talk about?"

"Maybe the fabric in the rubbish bin under there?" he says, pointing at the opposite wall, where a large desk stands, its polished surface gleaming in the moonlight.

"No idea what you're talking about. Must've been there when we got the room."

"You don't say!" A shoots her a mocking grin, slipping his tongue between his teeth in the way she always does. "And what about the fact that not a living soul on this little island would be caught dead in your 'nightgown'?"

"I don't even know how to sew! But, all right. Have it your way." She turns her back to him, snuggles into the pillow, and closes her eyes. "Night, Doctor."

He shifts closer, leaning over her a little and hovering his fingers over her bare upper arm. "Good night, Rose Tyler," he whispers, lips and fingertips brushing her skin.

It causes her to shiver from top to toe, to release a soft, content breath so close to a quiet moan she freezes as soon as she hears it. He lets out a low, self-satisfied chuckle as he pulls back. She bristles. Insufferable git. Then he settles down close to her — not so that he is touching her, but enough for her to feel his warmer-than-usual body heat radiate through the thin layers of her nightgown and for his earthy scent to fill her nose. Breathing him in, she smiles as her next move forms in her mind.

Whenever they have to share a bed, which does happen on occasion, she can't help her thoughts to wander to 'what if's. What if she'd just snuggle into his side? Maybe inch her hand closer and closer to his stomach until it rested over his solar plexus? Perhaps she could press her nose against his arm, or slide in a leg between his. Maybe, if she did that, one thing would lead to another and soon her thoughts take on a more adult nature and she has to shut down before she transforms into a wanton mess of throbbing need.

Now, though, now she closes her eyes and _indulges_ in the fantasy of him dancing his fingers over her side until he has hooked his arm around her waist, of him cupping her breast and closing his slender fingers around her nipple for a gentle tweak. Her lips part with a sigh as she imagines his hand wandering down her stomach, ghosting over hip and pulling the hemline of her nightgown with it on the way back. The fabric bunches up around her waist and he skims the elastic band of her knickers before dipping under and searching out her most intimate place.

Her blood heats up at the images her mind paints. He sniffs, pauses, then takes another sniff. A triumphant grin spreads on her face and she redoubles her effort, going through one of her favourite bed-sharing fantasies where he'd insist on tasting her, making her come with his mouth and fingers before burying himself inside her and fucking her to the sound of the headboard banging into the cool stone wall.

"Rose." He breathes out her name, follows it with an audible swallow. "Rose. I know what you're doing."

She takes a second to force her voice steady. "I'm not doing anything."

The mattress dips under his weight when he scoots so close his body runs along hers — legs, hips, torsos aligned.

"I can smell you." He breathes in, exhaling with a quiet hum. "You know I can."

"Yeah? Does it-does it affect you?"

"What do you think?" he asks and pushes his hips harder into her backside to show just how much.

"Doctor…"

She shifts over on her back and holds her breath when he dips his head down to hers, clutching the fabric of his pyjama shirt and tugging him closer. Any second now, their lips will meet.

A shriek followed by a loud rumble echoes through the courtyard and they spring up, pulling on whatever clothing they can find and darting out into the hallway.

* * *

**.**

* * *

Hours later, when the first sunrays pierce through the darkened horizon, the Doctor and Rose trod through a small stretch of wilderness separating the royal palace from the clearing where they parked the TARDIS. The Doctor's still wearing the silk pyjamas under his coat and Rose is still wearing the nightgown, but has pulled on her jeans under it and she's carrying the rest of their belongings in a bundle in her arms.

A small tribe of trolls had been hiding in a cavern in the woods on the other side of the palace, afraid of the offworlders luring their kin into the water, manipulating them into splashing and kicking their limbs. The Doctor and Rose repeated their trick from earlier but, once the last trolls had started swimming towards mainland, the Doctor used his firmest tone and most authoritative look on the king and queen. He and Rose were returning to the TARDIS and that was the end of it!

Reaching the timeship, he opens the door and walks up the ramp in silence. He hasn't said a single word about what happened at the palace and, with each second that passes, her courage to do so herself diminishes. Cheeks burning at her anything-but-subtle attempt at seduction, at the bodice that now is see-through from the swimming lessons, she mumbles a good night and rushes to her room.

Dropping off her bundle on the chair next to her wall mirror, she notices that her arms, chest, and face have deepened in colour. She slips out of her clothes and admires the contrast of pale skin and sun-kissed dito.

"Well, at least I got a tan."

She shakes her head at herself and collapses in bed, falling asleep on the spot.

* * *

_tbc_


End file.
